


The Dollhouse

by nightmares06



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Salt And Burn, Shrunken, Tiny!Sam, shrink, size!fic, vengeful spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are on a regular salt and burn to find a missing girl when they discover a haunted dollhouse - and Sam's about to become one of the dolls! (a size!fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dollhouse

**A/N: This story is not in any way associated with the _Brothers Apart_ series. This is canon Sam and canon Dean.  
  
**

* * *

  
She wasn't in the mansion anymore.   
  
While she was walking down the carpeted hallway, it had been a subtle shift in her surroundings. Between one blink and the next, she'd lost touch with the world - colors weren't the same anymore, the rug had become thick and coarse, changing from the soft padding she'd been wandering down. The tapestries on the wall, even the pictures hanging between them had changed, growing blocky and distorted, like they had become a copy of a copy of a copy. She felt like she was seeing the world through a looking glass.  
  
Suddenly worried, she ran back to her room. It was time to get out of this freaky place, and back to the world she knew. No bed and breakfast was worth this. She'd get her things and blow this joint before anything else weird happened.   
  
The whole way there, she sprinted, breath heavy from her years of smoking. Finally reaching her room at the end of the hall, she yanked the handle, slamming it into the wall accidentally. Chest heaving from her exertion, she gasped as she saw the room.  
  
Everything was gone.  
  
Well, not  _everything_  - but all of her stuff was missing. Her hand went to her black purse around her arm reflexively, clutching it gratefully. "No, no, no," she muttered. She ripped through the closet, pushing thick, starchy clothing out of her way. They hadn't been there before... maybe she just had the wrong room. Maybe it was going to be that simple.  
  
For a second, she could have sworn she heard voices from outside the window. Maybe someone else had the same problem as her... she hadn't seen another soul since her world was flipped on its head. This could be her big break. With nothing more than a hope and a prayer, she wandered over to the window, listening hard.  
  
From outside, she heard a young, male voice talking, "Did you hear that?"  
  
A deeper voice responded, "No, what are you talking about?"  
  
"Sounded like a door opening. Came from over here." She noticed the voices were coming closer while they spoke. A slight rumble went through the house, making her think of a distant earthquake. But its motions were regular, almost thudding...  
  
Desperate for help, she ripped opened the curtains, fully intending to scream out the window so they'd notice her. Her voice caught in her throat. A huge hazel eye dilated in front of the window in surprise, an empty window frame all that stood between her and it. She shrieked, backing away as fast as she could. Her purse slipped off her arm onto the floor in her panic. A huge voice echoed around her, shaking the tiny photos on the desk and the air itself with its power. "No, wait! I'm not gonna hurt you! Stop!"  
  
She ran out the door, refusing to chance even a glance at the window. All she could see in her mind was the giant eye... he could be grabbing at her, trying to catch her....  
  
The door slammed shut behind her, sealing her off from the outside world.  
  


* * *

  
"Holy shit," Sam said, rocking back on his heels.  
  
"What?" Dean asked, coming up behind him. A small flashlight was in his hand, shining bright in the dark room.  
  
"Th-the dollhouse. There was a girl inside it. She saw me and ran. Dean," Sam glanced up at his brother. "She was like,  _tiny_. Like four inches tall,  _maybe_."  
  
Arching his eyebrows in surprise, Dean squatted down next to Sam. "No way," he muttered. "She still there?" He tried to peer curiously into the tiny window.  
  
"No, ran off and slammed the door. Didn't even answer me when I said I wasn't going to hurt her."  
  
"Well, can't say I blame her. You are pretty scary, Sasquatch." Dean smirked at Sam when his nickname provoked a bitchface.  
  
Standing, Sam walked cautiously around the house. He peered inside, trying to catch sight of the tiny girl. There was no sign of her anywhere, and the house stood still and quiet. Carefully, he pinched open the little front door. "Hey, give that flashlight here, wouldja?" he held his hand out to Dean.  
  
Dean handed it over, prowling around the other side of the house while Sam shone the light through the front door. A little staircase with elegant embroidery arched out of sight, just like the staircase that led into the building they were in.  
  
Dean peered through the window where Sam had seen the girl again. Spotting something on the floor, he reached two of his fingers through the tiny window. He snatched up a tiny black object off the floor, holding it almost delicately in front of his face. It was a little black purse. "Hey, Sammy." Sam glanced up from the other side of the house, curiosity on his face. "Check it out." Dean passed his finding over the roof.  
  
"Huh," Sam muttered, carefully turning it over. Squinting, he could almost make out an itty bitty keychain of a rubber duck hanging off the side. "This is way too detailed to be made for a doll."  
  
"Yeah." Dean met Sam's eyes. "Does this case seem like, extra weird to you?"  
  
"Hell, this case is a dose of weird combined with a dash of the unexpected," Sam said. "Girl vanishes a week ago from the hallway, right in front of one of the housekeepers. No sign of any ghost or apparition, she just fades into thin air. And this entire month, people have been hearing weird noises from this room, right where the replica of the mansion is sitting." He passed the purse back to Dean, who pocketed it.  
  
Dean peeked through the curtains again. The tiny room was furnished like any other dollhouse, full of small echoes of real furniture, but the details were always lacking. Little outfits filled the closet, tiny picture frames sat on the desk with absolutely miniscule pictures in them. Realizing something odd, he straightened. "Hey, have you seen any actual dolls for the house? I remember the last time we saw a dollhouse this nice, there were plenty of dolls to go with it."  
  
Sam frowned. He could remember that case. A little girl with an 'imaginary' friend that turned out to be a ghost. The ghost had tried to convince her to drown herself in the pool, going as far as pushing the girl in. Sam had been able to save her at the last second, and the mother and daughter had left that hotel behind forever. "No, I haven't. That's weird. Usually anyone who put this much effort into a dollhouse has dolls made for it."  
  
Dean stood up, stretching his legs from the uncomfortable position he'd been squatting in. Standing, the house barely reached Dean's waist. "We should do a little background digging into this house, see who owned it last, or who made the dollhouse. I don't see the tiny girl anywhere, and we'll do her a lot more good if we figure out what's going on around here, that's for sure."  
  
"Yeah, you're right," Sam agreed quietly, still deep in thought. He followed his brother out of the room, uneasy that in a way, they were leaving her behind. He wondered where the girl had vanished to. She had been so afraid.  
  


* * *

  
Chloe grunted as she shoved open the heavy door to the banquet hall. Since the fiasco in her room, she hadn't gone near any of the windows, afraid of what she'd find. The last window she'd passed on the way had a beautiful stained glass fresco in it, and she'd seen a field stretching out, with trees in the distance. Gentle birdsong reached her ears, drifting on the steady breeze. There was no sign of any giants, no sign of the parking lot with her car in it, no sign of anything that  _should_  be out there. Nothing was adding up. If she didn't know better, she would think she'd been drugged.  
  
The discrepancies outside had her freaking out, so she'd gone to the banquet hall. When she first checked into the beautiful bed and breakfast in the countryside, she'd received a tour of all the gorgeous rooms in the former mansion, and one detail she remembered was that the banquet hall was the only room with no windows, no way to see the outside world at all. It was located at the dead center of the mansion. Shuddering from what she'd seen, she collapsed into one of the chairs lined up around the table, hoping to get a moment to catch her breath. She slumped back on the uncomfortable cushion, glancing warily around at her surroundings.  
  
Everything was still distorted from what she remembered. All the silverware was oversized, the dishes were clunky looking. She picked up a fork, surprised at how light it was, even with it three times the size of a regular fork. It also seemed... like plastic? With metal colored paint?   
  
Weird.  
  
She jumped when she heard a sound behind her. Twisting around, she spotted a small girl standing next to the door, peeking in the room. As soon as her eyes landed on Chloe, they widened. Giving a happy squeal, she ran into the room. "You're finally here, mommy!"  
  
Chloe was too shocked to resist when the tiny girl slammed into her, wrapping her little arms around Chloe's waist. "H-hi," she stuttered out. "And... who might you be?"  
  
The girl giggled, "You're so silly, mommy. It's Emma! You couldn't have forgot about me already! You've only been gone a few days!"  
  
Still recovering from her shock, she managed a reply, "O-oh, okay."  
  
The little girl pulled her arm. "It's time for cake, mommy!"  
  
Chloe stumbled as she was pulled from the room. She couldn't gather her wits enough to resist the girl’s strangely strong grip. The moment they went through the doorway, the little girl vanished.  
  
Chloe fainted dead away.  
  


* * *

  
A few hours later, the brothers were no closer to figuring out what had happened to Chloe. Their last stop had been to the mansion's library. They'd been disappointed to discover that there were no books about the latest owners, or the history of the house. All that they had found was fantasy literature. Fantastical stories about dragons, princesses, and knights in shining armour. Wall to wall. Sam couldn't help but feel impressed at how many of those stories they'd managed to collect. It didn't make sense that a library this size had no non-fiction section.  
  
He sat back from his seat with a sigh. "This is a goose chase," Sam groaned. "These books are useless."  
  
Dean glanced up at him, eyes sore and red from all the different stories he'd glanced through while trying to find something useful. "You think, Sammy?" he grumbled as he got to his feet. "We should get some shut eye, probably do us some good to look at everything with fresh eyes."  
  
"That's the best idea you've had all night," Sam admitted, stretching. He followed Dean out of the room, rubbing his eyes tiredly.   
  
Something changed.  
  
Maybe it was the air, maybe a smell, but there was something different about his surroundings. Sam opened his eyes. Nothing had changed around him, yet everything was different. "Dean?" he called out worriedly. Less than a moment ago he'd been standing next to his brother, and now Dean was nowhere to be found. Sam scanned the hall around him, eyes widening in surprise.   
  
It all seemed... different. Like a copy that just wasn't up to par. The dimensions of the walls were off just a tiny bit, the paint job not as smooth and finished. Sam felt a sinking feeling in his gut, remembering the tiny girl from before.   
  
He twisted around, running back into the library. Everything was different there as well. The room was neat, all the books they'd left scattered around the table stacked neatly away on the shelves, the lamp shining bright overhead. But Sam hadn't cleaned anything up when he left, and he knew for sure that Dean hadn't lifted a finger cleaning. Heart thudding in his chest, Sam grabbed one of the books off the shelf. Minutes ago, he'd been pouring through the book with Dean.  _The Golden Legend._  Sam had read it once, long ago when he was fascinated by dragons, before he had discovered monsters were real. He'd shown it to Dean, reminiscing about the old days when they were more innocent and before their lives had become drenched in the constant blood and turmoil of the hunt.  
  
The moment he opened the book his heart sunk. The pages were thick, and blank.  _Fuck._  Sam was starting to get an inkling he knew where he was. Tucking the book under his arm, he ran through the mansion, reaching the stairs and taking them two at a time. He ran into the room Chloe had been in after almost skidding past it.   
  
Everything was just as he remembered. Curtains pushed open, closet door ajar, thick doll clothes hanging in it.   
  
The dollhouse. He was in the dollhouse.   
  
Sam raced over to the window and peered out.   
  
Through the window he saw the strangest sight. It was as though two worlds were fighting to exist. He could see a beautiful, sunny meadow, tall trees shadowing the far end, birds chirping away. At the same time, as though it was trying to push through, he could see darkness at the edges of his vision. Small glimpses of the room the dollhouse had been in, soaring above his head. He leaned further out, hoping to catch sight of his brother. But Dean was nowhere to be found. Of course not. What would make him think Sam was stuck in the dollhouse?  
  
With a sigh, Sam pulled himself back in the window. He sunk onto the bed, slumping against the wall.  _What the hell am I supposed to do?_  
  
It must have been fifteen minutes before he pulled himself out of his funk, glancing down at the bulky fake book he had in his hands. He'd showed it to Dean... Maybe if he left it in the room, so obviously out of place, Dean would be able to find it. With no way for Sam to be sure he could reach Dean, this might be his best shot, especially when he remembered the way the girl had vanished into thin air without warning.  
  
Sam stripped the covers off the bed, hoping a naked bed would call more attention to itself. After that was done, he placed the book on the center of the mattress. He took the bed covers and lay them across the floor. He'd search the house, and if he didn't find anyone, he'd come back here, the one place he knew there was a chance Dean could spot him, and he'd sleep. Satisfied with the plan, he stood in the doorway, surveying his work.  
  
Content for now that he was taking action, he set out to see if he could find the girl.  
  


* * *

  
Dean walked along the hallway for a few moments before he realized something was... off. Turning around, he frowned. "Sammy?" he called out.   
  
Nothing.   
  
Something niggled at the back of his mind. He went back into the library, wondering if Sam had changed his mind about grabbing any books before they hit the sack.   
  
Sam wasn't there either.  
  
Now he was starting to get worried. Dean pulled the EMF reader out of his jacket. It had been quiet earlier, but maybe now... he held it in the last place he knew his brother had been. It started buzzing right away, the red meter at the top completely full. Switching to full panic mode, Dean raced through the mansion. "Sam?" he called out as he ran. Since the girl disappearing, no one was staying at the bed and bath, even the owners vacating the premises pending a full investigation. So he wasn't about to wake anyone.  
  
Dean checked every room, every corner of the mansion for his brother. Sam wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in the room they'd commandeered for the night. Banquet hall, entryway, large living room with the fireplace. He checked through every bedroom upstairs, combing them steadily with the meter. Sliding to a stop, he realized he'd overlooked a huge possibility.  
  
The dollhouse.  
  
Sam had been gone so fast it was almost like magic. Just like that girl, and they'd seen her last in the dollhouse. Dean ran back to the room where the large dollhouse had been. Kneeling down next to it carefully, he pulled out his flashlight, shining it carefully into the little rooms. Everything seemed to be the same... no motion, no running or screaming from him. He came upon the room Sam had said he'd seen the girl in and frowned.  
  
The tiny bed had the covers stripped off of it, and a book was sitting on the mattress.  
  
Carefully, he pinched the tiny book between a finger and thumb, holding it in front of his eyes. He could make out almost invisible writing along the spine...  _The Golden Legend..._. the book Sam had shown him not long before disappearing. He opened the tiny pages, wondering if Sam had left him any messages. Either the writing was too small, or Sam hadn't been able to find anything to write with. Hopeful, he peered in the tiny room again. No sign of anyone there. No Sam, no girl.  
  
It was the best lead he had to go on so far, so he pulled out a slip of paper, and a pencil. As small as he could, he wrote out a message for Sam, tucking it into the little book and gently setting it back on the bed.  
  
Standing up, Dean stretched out his arms. It was time to make some calls to the historical society to see if there was any dirt he could dig up on this dollhouse.  
  


* * *

  
Sam wandered through the replica mansion, searching for Chloe. So far he'd gone through all the rooms upstairs, and now he was making his way down the large, curving stairwell. Once he reached the bottom stair, he glanced to the side, surprised.   
  
He wasn't alone.  
  
A beautiful young woman was standing there in a long, light blue dress, with a matching blue bonnet on her head. She turned to him and smiled, a smile that lit up the room. Two running strides at him and she was in his arms, kissing him deeply. "Oh, Daniel, I'm so glad you came."  
  
Shocked, Sam tried to pull away, but her arms were wrapped around him too tight. She buried her face against his neck, embracing him like he was her long lost lover. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, still in shock. She released him, staring up curiously.  
  
"What's the matter?" she asked plaintively. "We've been waiting for this a long time." Her eyes flicked down at the ground, shyly smiling. "My father has finally given his permission for you to take my hand in marriage. Let's celebrate!"  
  
With that exclamation, Sam realized he had a picnic basket on his arm, and she pulled him to the door. He tried to dig his heels in, but her grip was too strong. Unnaturally strong. A moment passed before he realized she wasn't human. "Wh-what's your name?" he managed to get out as he was yanked along.  
  
A cloud passed over her face. "Emma, don't you remember?"  
  
"Uhh, yeah, of course!" Groping for something to say, Sam managed "Emma, what's the last thing you remember before you ran into me?"  
  
She released his hand. "Nothing. Nothing at all important." She backed away from him, tears in her eyes. _"LEAVE!"_  she screamed, right before vanishing.  
  
A weight Sam hadn't even noticed in his chest released, and he stumbled to the ground.  _Definitely a spirit._  But he'd never heard of a spirit able to do anything like this. Calming his breathing, he glanced around the room. Nothing seemed out of place, it was all the same as before she'd appeared. Even the picnic basket had vanished from his arm.  
  
He left the room quickly. He didn't have anything to stop a spirit with him; Dean had been packing the salt gun and EMF meter. Hopefully there was something in this dollhouse made of iron. He doubted there was any  _real_ salt in the kitchen. Sam sighed, tired of being surrounded by replicas and fakes. If only he'd been packing the salt gun, not Dean.  
  
Coming upon the entrance of the banquet hall, he spotted a woman collapsed in the door frame. He ran to her side, turning her over to check for injuries. She jumped in his arms, gasping as she woke up. "Hey hey hey," he said. "It's okay, you're alright. I gotcha."  
  
She slumped down for a moment in his arms, eyes blank as they stared up at the ceiling. They flicked to his face. "Wh-who are you?"  
  
"My name's Sam. I'm here to help."  
  
She focused on him, then jumped to her feet, ripping his arms off her. "You're that guy! The giant!" she gasped, backing away.  
  
Carefully standing up, he held his hands out in a calming gesture. "It's okay, I promise. I'm not a giant, see?"   
  
Glaring up from her bangs, she demanded, "Then why did I see you looking into my room earlier? Your EYE was as big as the fucking window!"  
  
"That wasn't your room. We aren't in the mansion anymore. Or, this isn't the mansion around us. Here. I guess we kinda still are in the mansion." He realized he was rambling and she was starting to get the  _I'm stuck with a nutjob_  look on her face. He sighed. "From what I can tell, you were shrunk down and put in the dollhouse."  
  
"T-that's impossible," she sputtered, backing away more.   
  
"Look around, does this look like the mansion to you?" He walked carefully around her, grabbing a fork off the table. "Does it look like you could eat with this?"  
  
"No," she said meekly. She sunk into one of the chairs. "This is seriously the dollhouse?" she asked in a whisper. "How? It's not possible!"  
  
Sam came over and sat in a chair near her. "What's your name?" he asked gently, hoping to ground her with a bit of normalcy.  
  
"I... I'm Chloe." Her eyes fell to the floor. "I'm on vacation, just to get away from my family for a bit. Needed a break, y'know?" A tear rolled down her cheek. "I haven't seen anyone all day, since that maid in the hall. And everything is so different... You really think we're in the dollhouse?"  
  
"I don't know anywhere else we could be." Sam thought for a moment. "You've only been here a day?"  
  
"Well, just a few hours. I was trying to find my belongings when I saw you, and then there was that girl, and..."  
  
"Girl?" Sam interrupted. "What girl? Is there someone else trapped here?"  
  
Her eyes fell. "I dunno, it was really weird. She ran up to me and called me Mommy." She hugged her arms around her chest. "It had a total creep factor. And then she disappeared, and I fainted."  
  
"Disappeared," Sam murmured, remembering the spirit he'd run into. "How old was she?"  
  
"No older than five... why, does it matter?"  
  
"It might." He stood up, "Have you seen anything in here that doesn't look like it belongs in a dollhouse? Something a little... out of place... maybe?"  
  
"No, why?"  
  
"There's gotta be a reason that she appeared to you. I saw a girl when I was coming down the stairs, but she was easily in her twenties. She was acting like I was her fiance." Sam frowned at the memory. "This just isn't adding up."  
  
"You think?" She glared at him, crossing her arms. " _Nothing_  here makes sense."  
  
He smiled reassuringly at her. "Don't worry, we'll get you out of this. My brother's still out there, and he'll find a way to fix us if we can't. There's no one I'd rely on more than Dean."  
  
She slumped down further in the chair. "Goody, another giant."  
  
Sam rubbed her arm, trying to calm her down. "Look, stay in here, keep the doors closed. I'm going to see if I can find anything to help us out."  
  
She nodded mutely, still taking it all in. Sam made sure she wasn't going to start freaking out, then quietly closed the door behind him.  
  
For a while, he paced around the other rooms in the mansion. He checked every closet, chest, cabinet and drawer he could find to see if there were any clues to what had happened to the two of them. It wasn't until he was back up on the second floor, in the master bedroom that he had any luck.  
  
He pulled open the chest at the foot of the bed, and a layer of dust swirled around him. Coughing, he covered his face, fanning the air with his sleeve so he could actually breathe. Once the air was cleared again, he leaned over the chest. An old, faded photograph was sitting in the bottom of the chest, with a small layer of dust still coating it. Sam reached in, pulling it out carefully so he wouldn't choke on even more dust. Wiping it clean with the blanket on the bed, he stared at the girl in the photo.  
  
It was the girl who'd kissed him.  
  
Turning it over, he read out loud, " _Emma St. Claire, born 1943 died 1966, may she always be in our hearts._ " He frowned thoughtfully. Now he had a name. If only he had a way to tell Dean... that brought to mind the book he'd left in the room. Sam hurried back, lugging the photo with him. It was easily the size of a poster to him.  
  
He finally found the door from before, still struggling with the photo. Laying it on the desk to the side, he turned back to the bed and the window. Sun still shone in from outside, but the darkness at the edges was growing thicker, more easily visible. At the edges, the darkness almost throbbed. The book he'd left there had shifted in place, and something was sticking out of it.  
  
Hope building in his chest, Sam picked it off the bed. A thick, black tube rolled out of it onto his lap as he pulled the folded paper out. Confused, he lifted it up, studying it for a moment before he realized it was just a piece of lead from a pencil. He was small enough that it was the size of sidewalk chalk.  _Must be from Dean,_  he thought gratefully.  _Great idea._  
  
He carefully unfolded the paper, ending up with a poster sized message stretched across his lap. The letters were easily recognizable as Dean's blocky writing, scrunched together so the words would fit on the little paper. The smallest letter was the size of Sam's palm. He felt a small pang of insignificance, knowing this was probably as small as Dean could probably write.  
  
_S,  
Signs of a spirit when you disappeared. Don't know who. Don't let your guard down. I'll be sleeping next to the dollhouse if you can find your way out.  
D_  
  
Sam smiled, knowing Dean was still watching out for him, even trapped like this. He grabbed the lead, turning over the paper. As thick and as dark as he could manage he wrote out a message for Dean.  
  
_Spirit is Emma St. Claire. Found Chloe, she's here with me. Watch out, the ghost doesn't know the difference between reality and fantasy._  
  
Sam sighed, sitting back. As dark as he wrote, his lettering was still light and faint compared to Dean's.  _He'll be able to read it. He has too. And I'll leave him the picture just in case._  He folded the paper back up as well as he could, having trouble with the thick edges. He tucked it back into the book, putting the picture under both. If only he could see Dean... Sam peered out the window again, noticing the darkness growing stronger.  
  
And then, it was like the blue sky shattered. Darkness rushed in, almost crushing in its totality. Sam backed away from the window, blinking in surprise. He could see a window on the far wall with sunlight peeking in. _That's impossible... it was barely evening when I was with Dean!_  He sucked in a breath, remembering that Chloe had said she'd only been there a few hours... How much time could have passed since he'd appeared here?  
  
Realizing he had no time to spare, he ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. _Gotta get to Chloe..._  
  


* * *

  
Dean sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. For the last two days, he hadn't been able to find any leads about the dollhouse. No one seemed to know who it had belonged to before the whole place was turned into a bed and breakfast in the 90s, it had always just been there. And every time he'd checked the house so far, the tiny little book hadn't moved from its place. He went back up the stairs as it approached night the second day since Sam had disappeared, boots thumping against the hardwood floor.  
  
He knelt down next to the house carefully. Peering into the room for what must have been the fifteenth time since leaving the note there, he sucked in a surprised breath. The little book had moved, and a picture was sitting under it.  
  
Almost reverently, he picked up the tiny book and the photo. The slip of paper he'd wrote the note to Sammy on slipped back in his hand. Carefully, he unfolded it, squinting to read the tiny words.  _Emma St. Claire..._  and Sam had found the girl he'd seen in the house before. Thankful, Dean sat back against the house, resting his back. He'd been starting to doubt himself, believing that he was going crazy for thinking his brother was in a friggin'  _dollhouse._  
  
Dean darted off to the local library, hoping Sam's information would be his big break.  
  


* * *

  
Sam dragged Chloe through the house, desperate to reach the room before the world changed again. If he could see the outside world, they might be able to escape, and he'd discovered it was the  _only_  window in the house that you could see the real world through. Maybe it was only their proximity to the house that made them small. They could snap back in size the moment they stepped back outside.  
  
"Where are we going?" she cried out, trying to pull out of his iron grip. She coughed harshly, making Sam slow out of concern.  
  
"We're getting out of this place," Sam gritted out in determination. "I could see the mansion out the window when I was up here. If we can get out, we might go back to normal."  
  
She froze on the stairs. Sam whipped around. "What's wrong?" he asked, desperation in his voice. "There's no time!"  
  
"But... everything's huge out there. What happens to us if we leave?" She trailed a hand over the banister. "Sam, at least here we're  _safe_."  
  
"Chloe," Sam took her face in his hands. "I promise, no matter how big everything is, there's a way to fix this. My brother won't let us down, no matter how big  _he_  is." He hid any nervousness he felt inside. If they were the right size for the dollhouse, neither of them would stand more than four inches in height. Dean would be  _enormous._  
  
But no matter what, Sam knew it would still be Dean, and there was no one they could count on more.  
  
She followed him willingly after that, gulping nervously when they entered her former room. The shades hung open, the world pitch black beyond them.  
  
"Here, help me tie these blankets together," Sam muttered quietly, afraid of disturbing the silence outside.  
  
Her face was ready to protest, but one glance outside and the words died on her lips. They worked in tandem, tying the blankets securely together. Once enough were ready, Sam sought out a place to anchor the makeshift rope. He knotted one end around a bedpost, then took the rest from Chloe, tossing it out the window.  
  
"Ready?" Sam asked, offering her a hand.  
  
She stared at it like it was an alien appendage. "Are you crazy?" she hissed. "I'm not going first! Who knows what's out there?!"  
  
He let out a sigh. "Fine. I'll go first, then you'll follow once I'm down. Okay?" He waited to get a nod before turning to the window. He peered over the edge.  
  
The wall of the small scale mansion stretched away from him in the dark. Instead of the hard ground he'd been expecting, there was something large and dark in the way. Trepidation filled him, fear of the very big unknown. This vanished when the dark mass below shifted, then grumbled in its sleep.  
  
"Dean!" Sam shouted, recognizing that tone. Sure, the last time he'd heard it, it hadn't rumbled through the air like thunder, but that didn't matter. It was  _Dean_.  
  
Dean gave no response to Sam's call, merely settling down once more and drifting back to sleep. Sam swung himself over the windowsill, giving Chloe one last glance. "Once I'm down, make sure to follow me, alright? We don't know how long this window of opportunity will last."  
  
She nodded silently.  
  
Sam began the climb, moving slowly to avoid loosening any of the knotted sheets. It was probably a good thing he had gone first, so he'd be able to catch her if she fell.   
  
Dean was less than ten feet under Sam when it happened.  
  
Chloe was watching him from the window with bated breath. Even from where Sam was dangling he could see her nervous eyes flash to Dean almost constantly. He couldn't blame her at all - even asleep, the giant hunter was a formidable sight, easily the size of the dollhouse itself, though he was curled up. Sam wasn't far above Dean's shoulder, steadily lowering himself hand over hand.  
  
"Sam?" he heard Chloe call.  
  
"What's wrong?" Sam tried to twist in place so she was visible, meeting her eyes.  
  
"Something... it's all changing... where'd you go?"  
  
That was when he saw it.  
  
The air around her was practically shifting. It throbbed around the tiny girl, trying to pull her back into the twilight zone they'd escaped from. A voice shouted in the air "She's  _my_  mommy! You can't have her!"  
  
Chloe was yanked into the house.  
  
There was no time for Sam to respond. The sheet he was climbing down started to unravel itself from the knot he'd tied, courtesy of the vengeful spirit. "No, no, no..." Sam tried to slip down the rope faster and get to the solid...  _semi_ -solid ground beneath him.  
  
The rope won the race.  
  
Sam plummeted.  
  


* * *

  
Sam crashed into Dean's shoulder, rolling down it until he was slumped against the huge hunter's neck, limbs askew. Before anything else, he patted himself down, making sure nothing had broken in the short fall.  
  
The ground shook under him as Dean began to wake up. Sam went to get down from his unintentional shoulder perch, but it was too late. Dean's natural instincts kicked in and had him grabbing at the unknown thing on his neck before he'd even woken up. Sam gave a shout, almost tumbling head over heels a second time as he tried to dodge from the massive hand, but he didn't have a chance.  
  
Huge fingers curled around him, pinning his arms and legs in place. The world shifted around Sam as Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes uncertainly with his free hand.  
  
Sam's struggles died off as he was helplessly lifted in front of the tired green eyes. Fear jumped in him at the unexpected vulnerability he felt. When those green eyes saw what Dean had in his grasp, they widened, fingers snapping open instantly. Sam was almost sent tumbling again from the quick, careless motion.  
  
" _Sammy?_  Holy crap, are you alright? Did I hurt you?"  
  
Sam twitched away from the loud, rumbling voice, his entire body shaking. He wasn't  _afraid._  This was  _Dean._  He  _couldn't_ be afraid. But still, the natural power that was surrounding him wasn't for the faint of heart. Sam caught his balance on Dean's thumb, then flinched at the way a simple thumb was two thirds his height.  
  
Another hand came up, guarding the edge behind Sam so he wouldn't fall. Sam forced himself to focus, meeting those huge, worried eyes. "I... the dollhouse. I was somehow trapped in it. I found a way out, but I was hoping I would go back to normal when I got outside." He rotated the arm he'd landed on, flexing to make sure it was all in once piece. "Nothing's broken. I might have some new bruises in the morning, but that's about it."  
  
Dean gave him a glad smile, then grew serious. "Sam, what happened? You were behind me then you were  _gone_."  
  
Sam shrugged. "Dunno. I was just walking behind you when I blinked, then I was suddenly in the dollhouse." Sam squinted in memory, trying to ignore the way he was completely surrounded. The huge hand cupped around him, and Dean formed a massive wall in front. "It was  _weird,_  Dean. Everything was normal, then I was surrounded by stuff that went through the Xerox one time too many. I ran to the room we saw Chloe in, and all that I could see out the window was a field and some trees.... somehow, this spirit changed the world in there."  
  
The green eyes narrowed, scanning the scale mansion up and down. Sam was almost sent tumbling to his knees again when the older hunter stood, pacing around the house. "Sam, I've been here almost constantly. You weren't in the house a few hours ago, at all. I went through every room, more than once. You must have been twilight zoned to a different place."  
  
"Hours?" Sam couldn't stop the surprise. "Dean, I couldn't have been gone for more than an hour. At most."  
  
Dean arched his eyebrows. "Sam, you've been gone almost half a week. Not just hours."  
  
Sam's mouth dropped open at that, then remembered that Chloe had said the same thing. "It must be the ghost... somehow it's trapping people in a world it created," he gasped. "Dean, that room we saw the girl in... is there anyone there?!"  
  
The panic in his voice sent Dean to his knees, peering in the window with Sam on his palm. "No, nothin,' " Dean said. "Why, what happened?"  
  
"I found the girl that disappeared. She's been trapped in the house this entire time on her own." Sam ran to the edge of Dean's hand. "Here, let me go search for her. She got yanked back in when I fell."  
  
Instead of lowering like he wanted, the hand swooped higher into the air. "Dean!" Sam said, caught off guard. "What the hell! I have to help her!"  
  
"I don't think so, shorty. If you go back in there, you'll be back in your own Tower of Terror. Until you're done being a happy meal toy, you're stickin' with me." Dean's tone left no room for argument.  
  
Sam glared at Dean, then caught himself. His face turned to ash at the thought of how small he really was. He was  _standing in a hand!_  "Fine. Just... let's not talk about food while I'm bite-sized," he said, uneasy with the thought.  
  
"Right. I'll keep that in mind, pint-size," Dean said as he stood one more time. "Well, I think I have a way to fix this now that I have the name of the ghost. I found where she's buried so we can salt and burn this spirit and get you both back to size."  
  
Despite the way Sam was practically clinging to Dean's hand at the thudding footstep threatening to knock him down, he couldn't quite hide a grin. "You were worried."  
  
"What? No!" Dean declared, giving Sam the eye. "I just didn't want to risk getting things wrong and getting you or Chloe hurt. After I woke up I was plannin' on getting right to that grave and sending the spirit up in smoke. 'Least now I've got some backup while I get this grave dug."  
  
"Uh..." Sam stared down at himself and took in the difference in his size and Dean's. "Whatever you say. Better bring your salt gun."  
  


* * *

  
Sam crossed his arms in annoyance when Dean dropped him on the ground next to the grave, aggravated with everything.  
  
Dean had just dropped him in a pocket -  _of all places, a pocket!_  when they'd passed by a few people on their way to the gravesite. Once on their own again, he'd been lifted out in a massive, calloused hand, gently checked over by those familiar green eyes. In a way, the familiarity made it  _worse_. Dean wasn't supposed to be the size of Godzilla, and Sam wasn't supposed to be the size of a Polly Pocket!  
  
They were both doing their best in the amped up  _weirdness_  called their lives, so Sam just bore through, determined to never talk about being small enough for Dean to shove in a pocket again. It was humiliating.  
  
Dean shucked off his duffel bag, putting it on the ground near Sam. Sam took a few uneasy steps back, disturbed by the way Dean towered over the entire landscape on those twin sequoia legs. He relaxed a little when the other hunter started digging, glad to have those huge eyes off him for a few minutes. Sam settled down, leaning against the duffel while he watched the dirt fly out of the hole.  
  
It took a little longer for Dean to dig the grave on his own than it took when he had Sam's help, but he got it done. Surveying the coffin below, Dean smashed his shovel on it, breaking it into bits. He coughed at the rancid air, trying to wave it away from his face. Even Sam, who was a good few feet away, wrinkled his nose at the disgusting smell.  
  
Dean was climbing out of the grave when Sam realized the air had chilled, a cold breeze giving him goosebumps. He shivered, rubbing his hands along his arms.  
  
"Daniel... how COULD YOU?!"  
  
Recognizing that shriek from behind, Sam dove out of the way of the vengeful spirit's angry attack. He whipped around, spotting her standing in the shadow of Dean's duffel, under four inches tall. She launched another attack, giving him no time to think over the strange as he dove out of the way. A massive shadow fell over them both as Dean finally arrived, staring down at the strange show down by his feet in shock.   
  
Emma shot forward, hand grabbing Sam's neck in a vice-like hold. Her eyes glittered darkly at him. "Daniel, I  _loved_  you! How could you betray me like this?"  
  
Sam didn't managed more than a rasp, his feet lifted off the ground.  
  
Before she could crush his windpipe, a scattering of crystals hit Sam's hair. The ghost dispersed with an angry shriek, letting Sam crash to the ground. He barely stumbled to his feet when a massive hand swooped down, grabbing him off the ground. Sam realized Dean was holding a container of salt in his other hand, which he must have used to get rid of the spirit.  
  
"You okay, Sammy?" came the deep voice, echoing around Sam.  
  
He managed to nod, his throat too sore to talk. Dean tossed the rest of the salt over the corpse, then soaked it with lighter fluid, knowing he couldn't risk the spirit coming back and attacking his small brother. He needed this over with.  
  
Sam shielded his eyes as a bright flame burst out from the grave, sending waves of heat at him. The brightness kept increasing, consuming his entire field of vision, until...  
  
Nothing.  
  


* * *

  
Sam woke up, grimacing at the bright light that struck his face. Hands helped lift him from the ground, groaning.  
  
"Well, look what the cat dragged in," came a joking tone from outside his head, which was throbbing in protest.  
  
"Ugh... whu... what hit me..." Sam managed to get out, licking his lips.  
  
"What do you remember last?" Dean asked.  
  
A cold water bottle was pressed to his lips. Sam drank it down gratefully, then focused on Dean's question. "Just... we were in the library, trying to research the case. All those damn books on fantasy were no help whatsoever..."  
  
His vision cleared at last. He was sprawled in a bed at the bed and bath, a cold compress laying near him on the bed. Sam sat up, holding a hand to his head. "What happened?"  
  
Dean moved away now that Sam was mobile, sitting on his own bed. "Let's just say, the ghost put the whammy on you, same as it did the girl. As soon as I burned the bones, both of you went back to normal. The last thing she remembers is seeing a maid in the hall, then waking up."  
  
Sam frowned. "That's it? You burned the bones and everything's over? What about the dollhouse? What about that tiny girl we saw?"  
  
Dean pursed his lips. "That girl's all taken care of, trust me. You just focus on getting better." He stood, taking a few steps over to the table. "Y'know, I found out why the ghost fixated on the two of you."  
  
Sam's curiosity was piqued. "Yeah?"  
  
Dean tossed a few photographs at Sam. Flailing, Sam managed to catch them before they fell, holding them up to get a good look. His eyes widened. "This looks like..."  
  
"That's right. Chloe is the spitting image of Emma's mother, and you, my brother, are the spitting image of Emma's fiance, Daniel, who was caught cheating on her the day after they married. She killed herself that night, right in the room with the dollhouse." Uncomfortable, Dean shrugged. "I guess she was trying to relive those days before it all went wrong. That's why she abducted the two of you, even if you don't remember."  
  
He grabbed his duffel, tossing his things in. "We should head out before the local police get here. No use getting thrown in jail for helpin' people."  
  
Dean kept the truth about Sam’s pocket sized adventure quiet, grinning. If Sam ever pranked him, he had some great blackmail pictures.   
  
**_FIN_**

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written to commemorate my deviantart page reaching 50k views at last! Please, enjoy this gift for all my wonderful followers <3 Half of it was written before I came up with the Brothers Apart story, then the rest was written this week.


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